


Homecoming

by staidwaters



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:17:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4105606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staidwaters/pseuds/staidwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan loves Narnia.  But she loves London more. And London needs her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Homecoming

Susan dreams, sometimes, of a land of magic and wonder and evil. Where she wears silken robes and golden crowns instead of rough twill and mass-produced barrettes. And in her dreams it is the most wonderful of places, terrifying and awe-inspiring and so real it takes her breath away. And then she wakes.

The land of her dreams is a kingdom known as Narnia. She and her siblings had invented it during the dreary months they spent hiding in the countryside from a war they didn’t understand enough to fear. Or perhaps they did understand it, subconsciously at least. Perhaps they had invented a fantasy world to live in when the real world had become too terrifying to look upon.

Susan remembers her first break from Narnia. She and her siblings were on the train, traveling back into London, and with every hour the pastoral landscape became more and more dotted with rubble and char, and their laughter and joy at finally going home slowly tapered off to a solemn silence. She had felt something shifting in her heart with every half-recognized landmark they passed, but the emotion was unformed and impossible to define. Then they were almost home, and she saw, from the window, the back wall of the stodgy little grey apartments that housed her best friend Mary, glowing in the light of the late afternoon sun. There was a moment of joy at the thought of seeing her friends, that they were finally home, and then the train pulled around the bend, and she realized that only that one wall still stood. 

She later found that Mary and her family were safely ensconced in one of the refugee centers downtown, but in that first long moment, when she was almost drowning in the sudden shock and horror, she had been suddenly filled with a mix of determination and sorrow and love so strong it almost felt as if it must have originated from outside herself, like a hammer that had knocked on the bell of her soul and made the world ring. Queen Susan the Gentle, she had called herself, in the make-believe world of Narnia, but there was nothing gentle about the passion flaring up in her. _Mine_ , her heart said. _Mine to protect, mine to love, mine to build and fix and save!_

But hidden in the song was a horror and guilt that made her want to prostrate herself in shame. _Mine, and I failed them. Mine, but I ran and hid._

Susan was an intelligent young woman. She knew she had not had any choice when she left London. That her absence had lessened the stress on threadbare supply lines. That having less children underfoot helped keep the city safe from accidents like an uncovered lantern that might be spotted by enemy bombers. But even knowing that she had done what was best for her people, the guilt almost brought her to her knees. Almost. Instead she gritted her teeth and planted her feet firmly on smooth stone cobbles laid centuries before. _This is my place_ , she told herself. _The land of my parents, and their parents before them. We have been damaged before, and rebuilt all the greater. We have know loss before, and it did not break us. I will treasure what remains, and morn what is lost, and never let grief or doubt get in the way of giving everything I can._ And her love for her home would swell in her heart with a grim joy that, while far from delight, was nevertheless bright and strong, and purity and refreshment would wash through her like the finest of Bacchus's wines.

None of her siblings took the destruction quite like she did. Not that they made light of it! But to them it recalled the destruction in border towns damaged in a skirmish between Narnia and Calormen, and they grimaced but accepted it as the price of victory. They pursed their lips and lowered their eyes with grief when they read the casualty lists, but the names of the dead did not flood them with the fire and determination that burned in Susan. And most telling of all, when their eyes went distant with the look Susan knew as homesickness, she somehow knew it was not the London of old they yearned for, but the strong walls of Cair Paravel.

Sometimes, on days when Susan learned of yet another loss, and her heart was so heavy that the fire of her determination felt dampened by the weight of her sorrow, she too wished to be back in Narnia. Not that it was precisely safe there! But she had been a queen, with the power to save her people and her lands. She had arrows with which to fight, a horn to call aid in even the most dire situation, and the political power to send aid where it was most needed. In London not only did she not have the power to solve most of the problems she saw, she could not even get access to the information she would need to know where she could be of most use. But thoughts of Narnia were bittersweet, for they were thoughts of escape, not of service, and she did her best to push them away.

Like the other children in the neighborhood, Susan spent part of each day volunteering with the recovery efforts. First merely picking up rubble, and then, as the teachers noted her calm determination and the way even the most volatile troublemakers in the group would fall in line at her gentle suggestion (she had been a queen, after all!) they moved her to organizing work parties, and inventories, and eventually, one day, she found herself in the position of afternoon secretary for Mrs. Parker, who had lost a leg as a teenager working as a nurse in the Great War two decades before, and was now putting her logistics experience to work for the volunteer corps. A bit of a philosopher by nature, she had an easy disposition and a fondness for debate that soon resulted in Susan revealing her frustrations.

“It seems so pointless,” Susan sighed. “I can’t help wonder if the house I helped rebuild yesterday will fall in another war a decade down the line. And I know that there is no choice but to act as if I know it will not, and that even if it does it will have provided shelter for all those years in between, so it is hardly useless, but I do wish that there was something greater and more permanent I could be doing. I can not quite forgive myself for having been useless during our nation’s greatest need, and I can only hope that I will be able to do better in the future.”

And Mrs. Parker took a huff on the long ivory-handled pipe her grandfather had brought back from India several decades before, and smiled as she set down her pen and leaned back in her chair. “Not many have your determination, Miss Pevensie, and I suspect it will lead you to accomplish a great deal more than most dream of, even without your other skills. Do you disagree?”

“That I will accomplish things of use in my life, I do not doubt,” Susan replied simply, after taking a moment to think. “I have faith that I will find my path someday, I suppose. I simply do not see where that might be. With the troops disbanding I am sure there is no place for a woman in the military, and I can hardly walk the halls of government. I have not my sister’s hand at providing succor to the ill, or my brother’s skill at sneaking around, so nurse and spy are unlikely careers as well.”

Mrs. Parker laughed. “You have a rather peculiar sense of what defines being of use! If it is the halls of government you seek, you are pretty enough – you could marry some up-and-rising political star and guide him behind the scenes.”

“I have considered it,” Susan said honestly, although she was thinking more of her early years at Cair Paravel, when she had felt obligated to at least consider marriage for political gain instead of love. “It seems rather wrong-minded though.”

Mrs. Parker smiled again. “I think you have already identified what you want to do, if not the specifics of how to do it” she said with a nod. “And although you are right that a marriage for power’s sake would be naught more than a lie, I do not think it would do you harm to consider marriage for your own sake, and I suspect that any man who interests you will have similar ambitions to yours, and you may tread that path together. Besides which, putting yourself ‘on the market,’ so to speak, will give you the opportunity to speak with many young men in a situation where they are inclined to listen to you.” She took another puff of her pipe. “But more importantly, I think you need to remind yourself how to enjoy life, and if you can not do it yourself, perhaps you can let a nice young man show you.”

“There are more important things to do right now than socialize,” Susan protested, but was immediately cut off.

“Soldiers and nurses and spies we have aplenty already. But your love...that is something special, and you must share it. Not that you are alone in loving this land of ours! But I have seen you as you walk the streets, and you love every pebble and child with a fierceness I have never seen in another. But right now it is a private thing for you, and tinged with fear of further loss. Learn joy again. Learn joy and share it with everyone you meet. You inspire people, Miss Pevensie, and if you want peace, inspire others to know love like yours, but filled with joy instead of fear.”

They talked a bit longer, and then Susan headed home, thoughtful. She was dusting off her coat in the entry before hanging it up when Peter came in. Of all her siblings, he came the closest to feeling as she did, she thought, always volunteering, always working himself into exhaustion. But she was fairly certain that it was because he felt it was his responsibility as High King of Narnia to help wherever he could, not his responsibility as a son of England. The thought made her feel rather cold and alone.

Peter being Peter, he noticed immediately. “Are you well, Susan?” he asked.

“Well enough. Just thinking a bit too much, I suspect. I had an interesting discussion with Mrs. Parker.”

“Do tell,” Peter encouraged, hanging up his hat.

“She thinks I need to learn to enjoy life more.”

“Well, I suppose you have been rather busy lately,” Peter noted “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to take a bit of a break.”

“She thinks I should be out courting.”

That made Peter blink, with a bit of a frown, but it was a protective elder brother frown, not a High King frown, and it warmed Susan’s soul a bit to see. “I suppose we are of that age again.”

“I think I will.”

“Ah. Well, thanks for the warning, I suppose. I’ll try not to scare them off this time.” That was another Narnia reference, but Susan elected to ignore it as they walked down the hall towards the drawing room.

“How’ll you go about starting courting,” Peter asked. “You’ve been rather persistent in ignoring that sort of thing so far.”

Susan thought about it a moment. “I think I’ll start wearing bright colored lipstick,” she announced, and Peter frowned again.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he said, “but it doesn’t particularly seem like you. You were always so...particular. Not...trolling, so to speak.”

Susan shrugged. “I’m not actually looking for a husband at the moment. Just...fun.”

“Fun,” Peter said flatly.

“Fun.” Susan replied, and smiled as she imagined a future London that reached for the skies and rang with laughter and joy.

**Author's Note:**

> I only recently found out about the “Susan Problem” when reading Hastings1066's "[ Susan of Narnia, Susan of...]()" (also written in response to the "Susan Problem") and was rather horrified that some people apparently believe Susan had been excluded from Aslan's kingdom. That wasn’t how I interpreted the books at all!  
> When I read the books as a child, I was 100% convinced that the only reason Susan and Peter couldn't return was that they had simply gotten too old to have the pure faith needed of a Narnian leader (or maybe had started their destiny in the real world). And as such, I thought the proper course of action for them was to transfer their loyalty to England. And the whole bit about lipstick and boys...mainly I thought that was just kids acting like kids (ewww, cooties), but I also assumed that Susan was seeking political power (queen and all), and schmoozing with young men and looking attractive was the easiest way for a young woman of the era to get there. I always figured that she probably married some powerful ambassador and spent her life keeping international squabbles from dissolving into war. Never once did it ever cross my mind that she had failed in any way. I figured Peter was in Aslan's kingdom because he missed Narnia so much he did something reckless and died young, but Susan was still alive and being awesome.  
> (Note: I read the books when I was quite young and DIDN’T reread them before writing this- I was afraid of getting writer's block if I discovered some fact that would disprove the headcannon that I wanted to share- so I imagine it has its share of errors.)


End file.
